


Cops and Robbers

by BoStarsky



Series: Assorted Kylux [25]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben is tired of this shit, Enemies to Lovers, Hux is an asshole, Idiots in Love, M/M, Rich boy with an even richer sugar daddy, a little smut, and has an unhealthy relationship with his bathtub, cause Ben is a slut, grey morals, i guess, just a pinch, monster dildos, this is not new to anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 13:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17850635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoStarsky/pseuds/BoStarsky
Summary: Ben likes his job, is proud of it, proud of carrying an FBI badge in his pocket and the cases he’s had a hand in solving. He’s good at his job. Or, he was until a string of robberies spanning the US landed in his lap, everything from elaborate jewelry heists to residential burglaries all tied back to one person. One person so elusive and infuriatingly untraceable that Ben might just be stuck on this case until one of them dies.





	Cops and Robbers

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my contribution to the Titleception, I had so much fun writing this and thank you so much to Abschiedamore for the beta!
> 
> Now with art by the talented Backtothe80scolors   
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

Ben likes his job, is proud of it, proud of carrying an FBI badge in his pocket and the cases he’s had a hand in solving. He’s good at his job. Or, he was until a string of robberies spanning the US landed in his lap, everything from elaborate jewelry heists to residential burglaries all tied back to one person. One person so elusive and infuriatingly untraceable that Ben might just be stuck on this case until one of them dies.

****

The General is the most professional, skilled cat burglar Ben has ever had the displeasure of hunting as he’s been doing for nearly five years now. Five years of his life wasted on dead ends and plants, half a decade and he has zip to show for it other than a pretentious moniker known by everyone and a string of angry victims blaming it all on him. Giving up isn’t an option, he’ll chase this thief to the ends of the world if that’s what’s needed. 

****

This time he’s chased them to Dallas, Texas where on his first day in town he heard the phrase  _ yeehaw _ at least three times before he believed it wasn’t his own imagination, now he’s starting to think they’re pulling his leg. He’s well aware he’s a city boy, a senator's son born with a silver spoon in each hand and a trust fund he could live off his whole life without lifting a finger and doesn’t need a gaggle of Texans to mock him for it. 

****

The General is no better, mocking him by leaving a note,  _ Try harder, Agent Solo.  _

****

“Try harder? Try harder, my ass,” he tells the empty showcase that’s supposed to be full of priceless jewels, fighting the urge to kick the damn display over. 

****

The note is just as useless as everything else, all it tells them is that The General has a good education and lots of confidence which could be almost anyone in this day and age. As always it’s all clean, not a single dust particle out of place. It makes his blood boil. He really is going to be stuck on this case for all eternity. 

****

It’s a mess, this case, a huge, stinking mess and Ben is sitting right in the middle of it, which just so happens to be a hotel room that has seen better days. There’s a sea of pointless files spread out around him, 32 locations confirmed to be The General and 10 more that are undecided, all that paperwork and nothing new. Three cups of coffee and close scrutiny of the note is no help. 

****

Taking a step back might work, never has before, but there’s always a first time for everything. In the shower he turns the water scalding hot, burning the frustration out of his skin. It doesn’t work quite like he wants it to in the end, leaving his skin an angry red that will probably chafe tomorrow, another problem on this endless pile of shit. 

****

He’s still angry, only now he’s wet and sore to boot, all his own damn fault. Screaming at the empty room won’t get him any further, but damn if it doesn’t feel good. 

****

With the water at a more pleasant temperature he works to wash off the jet lag of his near constant travelling, desperately missing the jacuzzi tub in his own apartment in DC. His apartment that he’s barely set foot in for longer than a month at a time lately. 

****

It’s been five fucking years, someday The General will have to slip up and when they do he’ll be there to catch them. Just the thought of finally being able to pluck that thorn from his side sends a surge of determination through him. He will see this through. 

****

Being clean leaves him feeling a little better, good enough that he turns to his best relaxation technique. Simply rubbing one out as quick as he can before the water turns cold and his mood sours again. 

****

With the loose-limbed feeling of a decent orgasm flowing through him he spreads out on the bed so he can air dry. On the side table his phone lights up with a chime. 

****

Perfect. 

****

**[21:26] Scavenger:** _ how does ur tub work????? _

****

How Rey does it he’ll never know, but his cousin seems to have a knack for knowing just what’ll annoy him the most. 

****

**[21:28] Scavenger:** _ I’m serious darth rich boy how does it work???? _

****

Curse him for letting her house sit while home from college. With a heavy groan and great effort he pulls his phone over so he can call her on speaker, he’s never much liked texting. 

****

“Fuck you for asking me that right now,” he growls the second she answers. “And what the hell are you doing in the master bathroom?” She’s not supposed to be there, she has her own room with a generous en-suite and full run of his apartment with the exception of  _ his room _ . 

****

“Why? Scared I’ll see the massive dildo you left stuck to your shower wall?” Oh no. This is exactly why he didn’t want Rey in there.

****

“Oh god,” his brief leisure is gone out the window. 

****

“That’s exactly what I said,” worst thing is he knows exactly which dildo it is, the culprit being thick, pink, and not even human. “You’re into some freaky shit cuz,” she teases, he can practically see her smug face in astral projection. “Now tell me how the tub works or I’ll send a picture of it to your mum.”

****

“It’s the toggle on the side,” he admits defeat, miming a little fiddle though no one is there to see it. “Just don’t put any bubble bath in it,” knowing Rey, she would. 

****

“I wasn’t gonna, but now I might,” she cackles. 

****

“ _ Rey _ .” 

****

His tone must have done something, there’s a second of silence before. “Fine, fine,” she pouts, “I won’t put any bubbles in your precious jacuzzi.”

****

“Thank you,” through trial and lots of error he’s learned it’s best to thank Rey before she does it anyway. “How’s college?”

****

“Stressful,” water sloshes in the background, “How’s Texas?”

****

“Sweaty and infuriating,” complaining feels even better than the screaming had. 

****

“You didn’t trash your room again, did you?” The accusation in her voice makes him roll his eyes. 

****

“That was one time!” he defends, and he’d been drunk that night to boot, “And no, I jerked off in the shower instead.”

****

“Oh, ew, Ben, just ew,” she cringes and Ben relishes in it. “I bet you were missing your pink friend over here,” her recovery is impressively quick. 

****

“I was, actually,” he says just to be obnoxious, reveling in the played up gag Rey hacks across the line. 

****

“You disgust me,” the fond smile in her voice finds its way over loud and clear.

****

“Love you too,” Ben laughs when he hears the jets whirring to life in the distance. “Don’t break any of my shit, yeah?”

****

“Yeah, whatever,” she hangs up, leaving him to the emptiness of his hotel room with only the flow of traffic and the hum of the air con to keep him company. 

****

About an hour later he gets a snap from Rey of her making a face at the dildo along with the caption  _ ‘when your cousin is a hoe’  _ quickly followed by  _ ‘I sent this to erbody’ _

****

_ ‘Jk’ _

****

_ ‘Or am I’  _

****

Ben closes out of Snapchat before he has to read anything else she sends him, hoping to god she didn’t send that to everyone. He’s forever grateful he remembered to bring the keys to his Ferrari, although he wouldn’t put it past Rey to hotwire the damn car. He really does love his cousin, but sometimes he wishes Luke would have chosen a slightly more restrained orphan to adopt instead of one he found on his spiritual hippy trip through Europe and brought home like a stray dog. 

****

—

****

Texas turned out be a dead end, much to nobody’s surprise. He lands in DC feeling dusty and well-roasted from the week he spent twiddling his thumbs in the dry sun while the local police kept plying him with  _ yeehaws _ and a broad selection of contractions; he gave up three days in much to their amusement. Tired and aching for his own bed he hauls himself through the airport only to find Rey waiting for him. Tired instantly takes a backseat to worry, Rey doesn’t have a car so seeing her here does not bode well for the Ferrari. 

****

“Relax, your fragile masculinity is safe in its garage, Han’s in the car,” she jabs a thumb over her shoulder in the vague direction of the car park. “Come on,” with no room for reply she marches off into the crowd, leaving him little choice, but to follow. 

****

Rey has not destroyed his apartment, thank god. It’s a little messier than when he left it, a few dishes in the sink, an abandoned pair of shoes by the door, no lasting damage. Not that he can see anyway. There is however a fresh bouquet of bright red roses on the kitchen island that seem very much out of place. 

****

“Rey?” 

****

“What?” She bounces in behind him, coming to a stop when she sees the flowers. “Those weren’t there before.”

****

“You sure?”

****

“Very.”

****

“Shit,” that means someone’s been here recently enough that they must have had a plan, timing it perfectly with his arrival and the apartment being empty for a couple of hours. He can think of only one person who would do that. 

****

Just when he thought he could have one day off. 

****

Within thirty minutes FBI techs are swarming his apartment and Ben fears he might have an aneurism while trying to keep his temper in check. He knows how this works, been part of it many times, but now he can truly sympathise with the people whose homes they’ve been in for hours on end performing in-depth analysis on the fucking carpet. 

****

It comes as no surprise to anyone when hours later they’ve found jack shit, just a bunch of flowers from a high end florist and a card addressed to him.  _ ‘Really, Agent Solo, I expected better security from you, love.’  _ From the looks of it this whole thing was for no other reason than to show off, to rub it in his face how far behind he is. Rey gratefully doesn’t comment when he throws the vase into the wall, leaving a wet stain and a few scratches in the paint.

****

The General was in his apartment, his own fucking home, so close to him and no one noticed. Not a single soul. Not even the florist could give them anything as the flowers had been ordered over text and vanished before anyone came to pick them up. He has little hope, but maybe, just maybe, they’ll find something on the surveillance tapes. 

****

At least here he can sink into his jacuzzi tub to relax, soaking in bath oils until he smells like a garden. Barely five minutes into jacuzzi time Rey comes bursting into the room, effectively shattering the fragile calm he’d been forming. 

****

“This came for you,” she waves a single rose in his face merely a second after his outburst of, “What the fuck, Rey!”

****

“The man in the lobby brought you this,” the flower goes further into his face, soft petals tickling his nose. 

****

In an attempt to stop the botanical assault to his face he snatches the flower away from her, the card attached to this one says a simple;  _ ‘That vase was real crystal.’  _

****

A jolt of something goes through him, The General is still here, has to be nearby for them to know he threw the flowers. It’s likely they’re long gone by now, but it’s a narrower margin they can investigate in the hopes of anything at all. That, and the guard in the lobby must have seen The General, spoken to them even. 

****

A grin takes over his face, finally a real clue. It’s almost like The General wants to play a game that’s a little less one sided. 

****

—

****

Ben isn’t entirely sure he likes this new dynamic, now that Rey is back in her dorm he’s been coming home to something new every day. It was exciting when it was a new opportunity to finally catch the asshole, now it’s starting to feel more and more invasive. He still gets fresh flowers every day, that depending on his mood get to stay or end up in the trash, little notes on seemingly everything from a dusty shelf to the food in his fridge and useless details about the robberies designed to piss him off. It’s like having an annoying roommate you never see that makes it a hobby to dig through you things. 

****

The General is worse than Rey. 

****

They might not call him up to abuse his tub when he’s not home, but the neverending notes make up for it. He knows damn well he needs to do his laundry and doesn’t need it pointed out to him, thank you very much. 

****

He does the laundry, but only because he’s running out of clean shirts and no other reason. 

****

—

****

This time it’s Boston. He’d been expecting this to happen when suddenly the steady stream of notes had stopped a week ago. It makes him feel worse that he somehow couldn’t predict where The General would hit next when they’ve been communicating in a way for weeks, like he’s missed something and lost the game. 

****

It’s an appropriately bleak day, a heavy rain cloud hanging over the city, waiting to drench him in freezing rain the second he sets foot outside no doubt. He’s just stepped onto the elevator when a voice calls out from down the hall, “Hold the lift, please.”

****

Ben is quick to hit the  _ open doors _ button and is glad he did when possibly the most beautiful man he’s ever seen gets on with him. He’s simply striking in his tailored suit, red hair slicked back and glowing in the overhead light. 

****

“Going down?” He remembers to ask hoping his sudden infatuation isn’t too obvious. 

****

“Are you always this forward?” What? Oh, shit. “Lobby, please,” he allows after letting Ben stew in his own mortification for a few seconds. 

****

Ben decides to shut up for the entire ride, staring at their distorted reflection in the polished steel doors until he’s watching the man walk away through the lobby, thinking there was something very familiar about him. He knows for a fact they’ve never met before, he would have remembered meeting someone like that. 

****

—

****

Weeks later he has another encounter with  _ The Man _ , happening upon him in the bar of a hotel in New Orleans. What an extraordinary coincidence. He must have a job that requires a lot of travel too. Why else would he be here?

****

—

****

After that he seems to run into the hot ginger more and more, the stranger seemingly cropping up wherever he goes. At first he thinks maybe he’s a reporter tailing the case, but they haven’t spoken since the first time and he never has a camera or anything else with him other than the ever present leather briefcase. Then he thinks he must be a businessman, but it doesn’t make sense that he’d show up in all the same places as Ben. He’s been through the files on every single person involved with the case from day one, the redhead isn’t one of them. 

****

There must be something he’s missing, some little detail. 

****

“Where did you see him this time?” Rey asks from where she’s sitting cross-legged in her desk chair eating the Chinese takeout Ben brought. 

****

“Walking past the crime scene,” he’s in New York this time, stretched out on Rey’s bed in her dorm at Juilliard. “I feel like I’m looking right at something I should be able to see.”

****

“Sure you don’t just want to bend him over?” a stray noodle falls in her lap, leaving behind a smudge of sauce when she plucks it away. 

****

“Yes, I want to ride him until he breaks under my fat ass too,” it has the desired effect, Rey pulling a little face at his crassness. 

****

“Ben,” she says, “you don’t have an arse,” that’s fair, can’t really argue the truth. “Maybe he’s the guy, you know, The General.”

****

“Don’t be stupid.”

****

—

****

It isn’t before he runs into Hot Stuff in his own building that the cogs start turning. Everything clicks when he slumps into his bedroom at long last only to find a neatly rolled up tie that he knows he’s seen before with a note pinned to it with a bejewelled tie clip,  _ ‘Your ties are tragic, love, wear this instead.’  _ It makes him so mad he has to lie face down on his bed for ten minutes to keep from launching his furniture off the balcony, closely followed by himself. 

****

—

****

Now that he knows what The General looks like it should be easy to catch him, or so he thought. The man continues to be elusive as well as an asshole, new notes showing up in his apartment every day. Since the tie he refuses to wear there haven’t been any new gifts, and he can’t help but wonder if he’s offended the man by not wearing it. 

****

He holds out for sixteen days before caving, The General was right, the tie does look better than anything else he has, the golden paisley pattern standing out from his otherwise drab, grey suit. Throughout the day he gets several comments on it, each one making him simultaneously mad and happy. 

****

Arriving home, he’s eager to see if anything came out of finally wearing the damn tie. A note is waiting for him,  _ ‘You look very handsome today, Agent Solo _ .’ He hates how flattered that makes him feel and for the first time he writes a note back.

****

**_‘What the fuck do you want?’_ **

****

_ ‘To spoil you,’  _ greets him in the morning which means The General came by when he was asleep. What should make him feel violated sends a strange tingle down his spine instead. 

****

On his kitchen counter sits another tie, this one a dark blue silk, accompanied by a silver tie pin, a single red stone set in the middle of the delicate flower. It pairs excellently with his black suit. 

****

—

****

The Ferrari is what his mother calls an obnoxious use of her money, the mid-engine sports car is both a rebellion and something of an early midlife crisis. It’s his most beloved possession even though he rarely uses it, afraid to seem even more like a rich boy favoured by nepotism than they already think him. Today, that doesn’t matter because the sun is shining and he feels like being that boy for a while. 

****

Yeah, today is one of those days.

****

His most recent gift is red and speckled with black flowers, a simple gold tie clip keeping it from fluttering in the wind. Even though he doesn’t need anyone to buy him expensive gifts it’s easily become the highlight of his week, having him excited to see what it’ll be this time, if it sparkles or not, how fine the fabrics are, taking a guess at the price tag. 

****

This little game of theirs is changing, it’s been a long time since he’s reported any of the notes, nor has he made mention that he’s seen the man on a regular basis for months. He could have easily pointed him out by now, yet for some reason, he hasn’t. He’s let a wanted criminal run loose just so he can get a new trinket every week. Is he really that easily charmed?

****

“I see you brought your dick to work today, Ben,” Agent Dameron heckles from a few cars down where he's climbing out of his beloved Camaro.

****

“Why, want a ride?” If there was ever a man who could be considered insufferably perfect it would be Poe Dameron, with his polished looks and personality to boot. The only things Ben has on him are excellent hair and money, which really doesn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things.

****

“No thanks, wouldn’t want to piss off your sugar daddy.” He fucking  _ saunters _ over, always trying to seduce everyone into his aura. “You obviously didn’t buy those ties yourself, your taste isn’t that good.” Sugar daddy, is that what The General is? What they’re doing is essentially bribery, he knows that, he’d probably get fired if anyone found out where his growing rainbow of silk ties come from.

****

Ben wants to get mad even though he knows Poe isn’t worth it, that it’s all childish rivalry, a waste of time and energy. “You’re right, you couldn’t afford me anyway,” in a different time he might have been curious enough to take Poe to bed, see if all that bravado leads anywhere. Now, just thinking it feels like he’s somehow cheating on The General.

****

What an absurd thought. 

****

—

****

“So it does run, I was beginning to think it was just for show.” Ben very nearly screams when he steps outside the Starbucks only to find The General leaning casually against the front fender of the 488. He’s just as beautiful today as he’s been every other time they’ve passed. 

****

What an opportunity this is, Ben could arrest him right now, but The General knows he won’t, wouldn’t be here if he thought his freedom was at risk. He’s not sure what to think about that. 

****

“You shouldn’t be here,”  _ it’s not safe _ . 

****

“Relax, Agent Solo, no one else knows who I am,” Ben stubbornly holds his ground when The General slinks up to him, slender hands coming up to adjust his tie. “The green suits you,” he says as if he wasn’t the one who bought him the damn tie in the first place. 

****

“You would know.”

****

“Better than you anyway,” he smiles and Ben realises something. 

****

He’s compromised. 

****

He’s the moron who developed feelings for his target, charmed by a few gifts he could have bought himself. This was probably all a ploy on The General’s part, a game he’d forgotten they were playing, a game he’s lost. 

****

Ben used to be so proud of his job, now he doesn't know anymore. 

****

—

****

He keeps wearing the gifts left for him, there’s no reason to stop now when he’s already lost, he’ll be The General’s pet agent. Might as well since it’s not like anyone else is trying to woo him for any reason. If a crazy hot, rich, ginger wants to give him bribes who’s he to complain, he’d let The General bribe him straight into bed at this point if that’s what he wants. It’s a bad idea, but he’s already too far gone, no matter what he does he’s fucked.

****

For one thing he’s been taking bribes from a wanted criminal, essentially aiding and abetting. He’s an accessory simply by association. Doomed if he comes clean, or if The General decides to pull the carpet out from under him.

****

He can’t even justifiably be mad about it because he put himself here when he should have known better. All he can do is follow the leash he has around his neck and hope something will happen and take the decision away from him.

****

—

****

It doesn’t, as it turns out. Life goes on and he has enough ties that he could wear a different one every day for a month with accompanying jewelry, that may or may not contain bits and pieces of what’s been stolen over the years. He hasn’t spoken to The General since that time outside the Starbucks weeks ago, nor is he any closer to finding out where the man is holed up. What he does know is that it’s likely in one of the nearby apartment buildings, after a through sweep showed no bugs or hidden cameras in his apartment, so for The General to be watching him he can’t be too far away.

****

One night, when he was feeling particularly melancholy about it, he poured himself a drink and sat in front of the floor to ceiling windows that span the outer wall and just watched, trying to catch a glimpse of where his “Sugar Daddy” might be. He fell asleep a few hours in only to be woken by a delivery man carrying a meat lovers pizza and a note,  _ ‘You missed dinner, love.’  _ He hates how warm that makes him feel.

****

—

****

Ben, it could be said, doesn’t think straight when horny, It’s when his level of stupidity sits highest on the bar. Paired with arriving home after yet another pointless goose chase, this time in San Francisco. It’s left him annoyed, a little too tipsy, full of bad ideas and too horny to be rational about it.

****

The General has given him so much, he ought to give something back.

****

That had been his reasoning when he stuck his pink, monster dildo in the middle of his glass coffee table. Had still been his motivation when he performed a somewhat off balance strip tease in front of the window. When he’d bent over the arm of his couch and fingered himself open. By the time he climbs onto the table and sinks down on the toy he’s past caring who might be watching, more interested in getting off and going to sleep.

****

The stretch is amazing, every ridge and bump rubbing against him in just the right way, pushing him closer and closer to where he needs to be. He hopes The General is enjoying the show, if he’s even watching. Under him the table creaks ominously as he gives it the ride of its life, ignoring the fact that it wasn’t made to hold up a 250 pound man enthusiastically fucking himself.

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****

He comes with a breathless groan, twitching in the aftermath. It’s first when he moves to get off the dildo he’s faced with how bad of an idea it had been. A little bit of pressure in the wrong spot and the glass shatters beneath him.

****

“Fuck!” Barely off the high of orgasm he’s met with the prickling pain of an assfull of glass and hopes to god it feels worse than it actually is. What does he even do about this?

****

Who he does end up calling is a pointless endeavour, but at least she picks up. “Rey,” he moans, “I broke the coffee table.”

****

“Oh god,” from the groggy sound of her voice he’d assume she was asleep. “What did you do and why are you calling me?”

****

“I broke it with my ass, there’s glass in it now.” A gently questing hand comes back with a smear of blood, “I’m bleeding,” he helpfully supplies. 

****

“Then go to the ER, Ben.” She promptly hangs up, leaving him alone in the broken coffee table with his bleeding ass. Could he get away with calling an Uber maybe?

****

Before he gets the chance, his lock turns and in walks The General looking somewhat concerned. How sweet. No, really, if he didn’t have an emotional boner for the guy before, he does now. A big, throbbing one, that’s persisted for a lot longer than four hours and should probably be looked at by a professional.

****

“Are you hurt?”

****

“Honestly yes, is it really that easy to break in here?” He’d thought it would take The General a couple of minutes at least to get past the front door. Does he have a key?

****

The General heaves a sigh of the weary, eyes looking to the sky almost as if he’s praying. “Are you bleeding, Ben?” He speaks slowly and deliberately, talking to him as if was an unruly kid.

****

“Yes,” he replies just as slowly.

****

“Then get out of the bloody table and let me take you to the ER.”

****

A trip to the hospital was not how he thought this day would end, least of all having The General take him there. It isn’t until he's waiting awkwardly facedown on an examination table with his ass in the air that the humiliation starts to set in. What the  _ hell _ had he been thinking?

****

Now he’s down one designer coffee table, possibly an expensive dildo, and a medical bill. Hands down, the most expensive orgasm he’s ever had and The General hasn’t even mentioned it even though there was no mistaking he was trying to put on a show for him. Thankfully he’s saved from saying anything stupid by the overworked intern assigned to pluck the glass out of his butt arriving at long last.

****

Out of his few visits to the ER in his life this one is by far the most embarrassing one.

****

—

****

It occurs to him the next day when he comes home after a day of painful sitting to a pair of white gold cufflinks embedded with rubies and diamonds, likely the most expensive gift yet, that he still doesn’t know The General’s name. The man watched him ride a table to its demise and is still too secretive to give him a name, even an alias would be appreciated. There’s no note with the cufflinks.

****

_ Feeling disappointed is useless, _ he tells himself dragging his feet into the bedroom so he can peel off his suit in favour of sweatpants. Right inside the door he stops in his tracks, the bed is made. He’s pretty sure it wasn’t when he left this morning. A box sits on his pillow, neatly gift wrapped with a little tag,  _ ‘Thank you for the show, love.’  _ Inside the box is another note,  _ ‘I hope this is to your taste, darling.’  _ Under the layer of protective foam is a set of gold plated and bejeweled toys, how outrageously opulent.

****

Ben can’t help it, he laughs. This whole thing has become beyond absurd. He should break stuff with his ass more often.

****

Between giggles he sends a snap of it to Rey,  **_‘The General just gave me half your tuition to stick up my ass’_ ** .

****

_ ‘There’s smth srsly wrong with you, cuz.’  _ arrives before too long. She’s probably right.

****

—

****

Apparently, at some point, the entire office decided he was no longer single without asking him first. Somehow they all came to the unanimous conclusion, likely with help from Dameron, that some mysterious rich man owns his ass and he’s a little mad that they’re not entirely wrong. He supposes from a skewed point of view it could be said him and The General are dating, even Rey agrees. Would it be horribly presumptuous of him to change his Facebook status?

****

—

****

Somehow The General caught wind of this, which comes as no surprise, and he doesn't seem to mind. Going by the box of luxury chocolates and bouquet the size of a small planet waiting on his desk on Valentines Day, he’d say The General is all for it. So, they’re dating now and he still doesn’t know his name.

****

He gets the chance to ask before too long, his apartment not as empty as it ought to be. The General is in the kitchen, wearing an apron, of all things. It looks very incongruous with the well tailored suit underneath, but he’s learned by now to expect the unexpected.

****

“Welcome home, love,” he struts over as if Ben’s kitchen was a catwalk, all elegant lines and fluidity, to straighten his tie and draw him into a brief kiss like it’s something they do every day. “I made dinner.”

****

Not for the first time Ben wonders what the fuck went wrong with his life and how this is where it ended up.

****

So he asks again, “What the fuck do you want?” Something has to change, right now. He’s sick of this game, he lost, they both know it, so why keep it up? Why string him along like this? Manipulate him into letting a criminal run loose in exchange for a few pretty things and his own heart? “You know what? _ Fuck you _ ,” he interjects before The General has a chance to answer.

****

“Get the hell out of my apartment and take all your shit with you.” Ben isn’t in the habit of storming off, not since he was a kid. He tries to find any other name for it as he stomps into his bedroom and starts collecting every tie, every pin and clip, even the set of toys he never used, and throwing it all in the direction of The General’s feet where he’s stood at the edge of the kitchen. “Fuck you and the purebred horse you rode in on!” It’s a tantrum, there is no other word for it.

****

Slamming the door is cathartic, but not enough. The bedside lamp gets it next, closely followed by the table and two of his pillows. How could he let this happen? How the fuck was he so blind he didn’t see the end goal coming miles ahead like he should have? Who the fuck does The General think he is, how dare he kiss him like that? And the worst thing about it all is how much he wants it to be real.

****

All it does is make the hurt that much worse.

****

Because he does want that, wants to come home to that beautiful man, kiss him, hold him. Love him. He’s not sure if he wants to cry or scream about the fact that the only man who ever bothered to buy him flowers only did it to manipulate him. He settles for neither. The General isn’t worth it.

****

Sitting there on his bed amongst the goose down he contemplates calling it in, giving them both up, though it’s likely The General is long gone by now. Ben wouldn’t have wanted to stick around either.

****

A firm knock on his door takes him by surprise, “Ben?”

****

“I thought I told you to fuck off.” The fight has gone out of him, leaving him somber in the aftermath, too tired to get mad again. “I’m done with your bullshit.”

****

A loud sigh reaches him through the door before it opens with not so much as a creak, soft footsteps padding across the carpet until there’s a pair of designer shoes in his field of vision. “What’s wrong?” God, he  _ hates _ the concern in that voice, so good it almost sounds real.

****

“Pretending to care, classy,” he snaps at those polished leather shoes.

****

“What makes you think I don’t?”  _ Here we go again _ , but Ben won’t fall for it this time.

****

He won’t even dignify that with an answer, instead he levels a glare at The General’s knees, refusing to look any higher. It might be childish of him, but at this point he’s past caring.

****

“Please talk to me, Ben.”

****

“Just tell me why. Did you get bored, decided to see how far you could string me along? Is it what you wanted? How does it feel knowing you pulled one over on me and I was too dumb to notice? And I fucking let you, now it’s too late and I’m fucked no matter what.” Might as well hand in his resignation tomorrow since  _ clearly _ he can’t be trusted to do his job if the target is too pretty. “Congratulations, you won.”

****

“I’m hurt I gave you that impression. I promise I wasn’t trying to manipulate you, but in hindsight I can see how you would reach that conclusion and I apologise.”  _ No, no, no. _ Lies, all of it. “I like you, Ben.” 

****

“How the fuck do you expect me to believe that when I don’t even know your name?”

****

“Armitage Hux, born to an Irish mother and British father, a bastard son. My first heist was stealing my stepmother’s jewelry when I was thirteen. Later I pawned it off and spent the money to leave home. I joined the army, special forces, retired six years later. Then I worked for a private security firm until I grew bored, and two months later I pulled my second heist; the rest you know.”

****

Now  _ that _ makes him look up.

****

“It’s all on file, I’m easily traced if you know where to look.” Ben isn’t sure he likes how open The General’s face is, the softness around his eyes and mouth seeming out of place on the man who’s taken up the last six years of his life. The ghost who’s always slipped between the cracks before he could catch a glimpse. “I assure you my intentions towards you are honest.”

****

He wants to believe that so badly, more than anything. Still, this man, The General, Armitage, whoever he is hasn’t exactly proven himself to be a shining example of trust.

****

“I like you, Ben Solo,” soft fingers trace his jaw, a thumb brushing over his bottom lip. He should move away, shouldn’t let Armitage touch him like this. His body betrays him, leaning into the touch instead.

****

“Fuck you,” he says, but there’s no venom in it.

****

Armitage smiles, a sparkle in his eye that has no right being as charming as it is and Ben knows he’s sold. He’s always joked that this case would be his downfall, how right he was. Six years of work down the drain, all because he couldn’t keep from falling in love with the first man to get him flowers like some poorly written heroine in a dimestore novel. Leia would be ashamed that her only son is so easily bought.

****

“Come have dinner with me,” against all sound reasoning Ben takes the hand offered to him, It does smell fantastic. “I’m not much of a cook, but I wanted to do something special for you.” Armitage leads him back to the kitchen, passing by the living room where all his gifts are neatly stacked on the new coffee table, granite topped this time, where his dining table has been set for two.

****

A single flickering candle sits between the two placemats in a candle holder Ben knows for a fact isn’t his, he’d rather not dwell on where it came from, a long stemmed rose next to it. It’s all very romantic cliche. Difficult not to be charmed by it. Out of the oven emerges what looks like a very basic bake of some sort; Ben won’t complain, it’s rare enough he cooks on his own that even a grilled cheese would win him over.

****

This can only end in disaster.

****

—

****

Armitage Hux is a real person, he’s in the system just like he said, which means there's a chance he wasn’t lying about his feelings. He’s not sure where that leaves him other than with a difficult choice to make. 

****

Who does he stay loyal to?

****

The logical choice would be the FBI, he’s worked hard to get where he is, to be the lead agent on a case this big. If he turns Armitage in he’d likely get a promotion with a bigger cheque at the end of each month and the respect of his peers, but at what cost? Would it be worth sacrificing a relationship in which he’ll never want for anything? Is his career really more important than emotional fulfillment? 

****

His jacuzzi is the place to contemplate such dilemmas. The water hot and soothing as the jets massage him from all directions. Funny how it all seems to come back to this tub, at this rate it should be the love of his life instead of the famous jewelry thief that’s currently making an intentionally noisy entrance. Turns out he does have a key.

****

Soon enough his bathroom is being invaded by the British. “Loud enough for you?” a perfectly shaped eyebrow rises in question.

****

“Thank you for not scaring the shit out of me.” Armitage appearing out of thin air has become such a part of his everyday life, enough so that he’s instructed the man to make some noise from time to time so he can stop shitting himself at regular intervals.

****

“I brought you something.” A necklace unfurls from Armitage’s hand to dangle before his face; it’s fairly simple compared to his other gifts, a string of black pearls carrying an onyx pendant set in silver. It was no doubt hideously expensive, but is subtle enough that he could wear it every day, which he guesses was the intention.

****

Perching on the edge of the tub, Armitage slips the necklace over his head using the pearls to pull him forward into a kiss. This time he doesn’t protest, no earth shattering realisations coming at him, just the heat of a soft mouth.

****

In a moment of insanity that could result in unfavourable consequences he grabs hold of Armitage’s jacket and pulls. Water sloshes onto the floor in the brief struggle that ensues until he has a soaked and somewhat pissed off thief clutched to his chest. It’s only fair, in his opinion, that after six years of running in circles he gets a little payback.

****

“This suit is bespoke,” Armitage grumbles more for show than anything else as he settles in, accepting the defeat.

****

“Relax, I’ll buy you a new one.” Not like he can’t afford it, might even be an approved use of money by his mother.

****

Laying about in a jacuzzi tub with half his dilemma is not exactly conducive to solving the problem at hand, in fact, he’d say it’s almost detrimental. It would be all too easy to let his dick choose for him, which really isn’t an option when it comes to life changing decisions like this.

****

It can never just be easy, can it?

****

—

****

Ben has always been slow with things like these, it takes him months of weighing up pros and cons before he’s even close to making a decision. In the end, Armitage gives him something of an ultimatum, a surprise as it were. A gift and a question neatly contained in a little velvet box sat on his desk one morning. In this little box is a ring. A ring he’s seen before and can with certainty say he knows where it came from. Specifically a jewelry exhibit in LA, nearly seven years ago.

****

Well, shit, it’s not like his supervisor is ever going to ask for his hand in marriage.

****

“What do you say?” is whispered in his ear a moment later.

****

“Yes.”


End file.
